


Pajama Jeans and Teenage Dreams

by larryscape



Series: Satan's Got A New Headscarf [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (THE FIRST ONE WAS BOTTOM LOUIS SO I'M TRYING TO BE VERSATILE), (THERE'S SO MUCH MORE TO THE FIC THAN THE SMUT SO DON'T JUDGE BASED ON WHO TOPS), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Football, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, College, Comedy, Crack Fic, Dirty Talk, Dom Louis, Exhibitionism, Fingering, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Football, Frottage, Funny, Hair-pulling, Hipster Harry, Hipsters, Humor, Literature, Locker Room, Loud Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Marijuana, Massage, Music, Nudity, Oral Sex, Poetry, Romantic Comedy, School, Shotgunning, Shower Sex, Smut, Soccer, Two Shot, Weed, Writing, ass worship, hate fic, larry stylinson - Freeform, lourry stylinson, pot, stupid liam, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2177214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryscape/pseuds/larryscape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the second semester of his senior year at university, and Louis is still rummaging for excuses to hate Harry Styles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pajama Jeans and Teenage Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Jackie (@cockslouts), first and foremost, for being SGANH's (yes, we're abbreviating it now) biggest fan. She has always boosted my ego when I needed it most, and her support has helped me a lot while writing this sequel. Another big shout out goes to my dear friend Alexa (@zouiswincest) for being an all-around amazing friend. You keep me sane. Check both of these people out on ao3 too!
> 
> Thank you to anyone who commented on SGANH, because they are some of the funniest and kindest words I have ever received. Please don't be shy about commenting on this one too! It would mean a lot if this made it big somehow, so you have my permission to submit this to any blogs or twitters, etc. 
> 
> Twitter: @ctmytown  
> Tumblr: larryscape  
> Ask.fm: larryscape

 

Beautiful art by Mariah [(@harrybdsm)](http://twitter.com/harrybdsm)

 

Jackie made an [8tracks playlist](http://t.co/f1l3AhG2P4) for this special occasion, so thank you Jackie.

 

 

**Misjudgement**

_by Harry Styles_

_On our ever twisting paths of life, we all encounter people who give us a first impression we do not particularly care for. Some may seem one-dimensional to begin with, but with an open and relaxed mind, we come to realize that they outshine billions with their impressive wit and incredibly firm ass. Football players especially, with countless squat-thrusts and-_

“Louis, this is ridiculous,” Harry said, closing his laptop halfway. “Everyone is gonna know you wrote this.”

Louis wanted to protest immediately but found it fairly difficult with Harry’s cock in his mouth. Instead, he settled for an eyeroll and a rough hum around Harry’s shaft.

Harry continued reading to himself.

\- _wall-sits, have the unmatched muscular stamina to please anyone sexually - even those who hide their dicks in black skinny jeans and tribal-printed cock-socks._

“Okay, I don’t even own a cock sock.”

“Keep reading,” Louis huffed, having popped off Harry’s dick. A dangling strand of saliva hung between them as Louis pierced daggers through the taller boy’s eyes. “You’re just getting to the good part,” he added, scowl softening to a smirk.

“Fine,” Harry said before burying a hand in Louis’ hair and pulling him back onto his dick.

_In fact, my most overwhelming orgasm to date came from a football player. He completely ruined me for other partners, with his tight bod and muscular thighs..._

“Would I really say _bod?_ ” Harry mumbled, shaking his head at the screen.

_Needless to say, I owe a massive apology to any student athletes and mathletes I offended with my last article. I am a changed man and will never let my Oxford wannabe, makeup-wearing self jump to conclusions without reason ever again._

Releasing a heavy sigh, Harry set his laptop down on the bed beside him. It was then that Louis decided to deepthroat him, letting the head of Harry's dick nudge the back of his throat without so much as a flinch.

Harry hissed as his hips lifted into Louis’ mouth, making the smaller boy’s eyes shut quickly. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he teased, grabbing at Louis’ hair once more and fucking up into his lips.

Louis nodded, humming blissfully before lifting himself off Harry’s dick. “Just wanted an apology. If that makes me trouble…” He paused to lick over the head of Harry’s cock before sliding down and up once more. Harry came, shoulders jumping off the bed and strings of curses leaving his lips. Louis smirked as he gulped down Harry's come with his eyes closed before releasing a dramatic _Ahhh_. “Then so be it.”

Letting his head fall back onto Louis' Spiderman pillow, Harry released a satisfied groan. "Fuuuuck," he sang to the bunk above him. "You're good at that."

"I know I am," Louis answered, hand over his heart. "But not as good as I am at this," he finished before tugging Harry's trousers to his ankles and grabbing his knees. He spread Harry's legs wide and crept a hand up each inner thigh.

Harry hummed low in his throat. His shoulders were lifting to give him a better angle to watch Louis' fingers when a muffled chorus of _Baby Got Back_ began playing from Louis' jeans.

He retracted his fingers as an instant reflex, leaving Harry dry-sobbing on his back.

"Hello?" Louis sang, holding his phone up to his ear. Harry grabbed Louis’ free hand and tried tugging it toward his crotch, but Louis yanked it back with a stern finger waggle. "Oh, hi Zayn. What's u- wait what?"

Louis widened his eyes before looking to Harry, who still looked dazed and confused as ever. _What?_ Harry mouthed, eyes furrowed.

_Shhh_ , Louis mouthed back, and Harry shrugged before lying back down and pumping his half-hard cock. "Code red?" Louis continued, talking through his fingernails. "Are you sure? No... _no..._ Oka- _okay_ , Zayn. I'll be right there, relax."

Louis pocketed his phone and nodded at Harry. "Well, it's been semi-pleasurable," he chirped before frowning down at his own hard-on. Harry quirked an eyebrow, his hand’s rhythm remaining steady. Louis pursed his lips together. "Well bye."

"Are you kicking me out?"

While sliding his legs off the edge of the bed and standing up, Louis gave a loud scoff. “Yeah?” he said before stepping into his navy vans. “This isn’t a fucking bed and breakfast.”

Harry knitted his eyebrows, slowing his hand around his shaft. “Then how come Liam gets to stay?”

Louis froze with a hand on his zipper. “What?” he said, eyes leaving Harry and squinting up at the top bunk. “ _Liam?_ ” he said, scanning a sheet-covered blob he apparently hadn’t noticed before. “What the fuck are you- have you been here the whole time?”

The blob rolled over, and suddenly Louis was faced with a blushing Niall Horan wrapped in white sheets and Zayn’s Avengers blanket.

“ _Niall?_ ” Louis and Harry gasped simultaneously, Louis with an expression of horror and Harry with one of amusement.

“I was locked out of my room,” he said through a giggle, to which Louis responded by tugging on Zayn’s sheets and watching as his short, blond friend went tumbling off the top bunk and onto the floor with a piercing squawk and a loud thud. (He would go on to require crutches for the remainder of the semester.)

 

**I Think I Like It**

_by Niall Horan_

 

_I planted myself in a strategic spot_

_To test a feeling that I got_

_That one fateful fall afternoon_

_And though I think it may be too soon_

_I think there’s something new I enjoy_

_I’m not afraid to admit it’s boy on boy_

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

After explaining to Louis that he did not even know that Niall was in his bed (and vowing to report him to the RA), Zayn filled him in on that morning's happenings.

"So basically, we're screwed," Louis said, still catching his breath from his jog up to the abandoned campus church.

Zayn weighed out his hands, making a strained _Ehhh_ noise before nodding. "I mean the custodian who found everything is down in the basement now. I told him to wait, so I could explain everything, but I’m pretty sure English is his second language, so we’ll see how this’ll go."

Louis' wide eyes narrowed into a thoughtful squint. "Wait," he said, blinking slowly. "You don't speak Spanish?"

Zayn's squint matched Louis' as he folded his arms. Louis mirrored him as he tilted his head before finally letting out a bitter scoff. "I'm Pakistani, you twat," he said before punching Louis on the arm and walking toward the building.

Louis rubbed his bicep and knitted his eyebrows. "You are?"

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

The spring semester heat vanished the second Zayn and Louis descended down the basement stairs, leaving them with goosebumps speckling their bare forearms.

Releasing a shudder, Louis clasped a hand around his best friend's shoulder as they reached the bottom step. "Well since you don't even speak Spanish-"

Zayn shot him a glare.

"I mean it's true. I'm just saying... I might as well do the talking, yeah?" Louis' palms faced the ceiling as he looked at Zayn expectantly.

"Whatever," Zayn said, shrugging irritably. "Just get us out of this, Lou. I'm not getting expelled the second semester of my senior year."

"And how do you think I feel?" Louis retorted, leading them down a narrow hallway lined with cinder-block walls and cement floors. "I try out for the Rovers in a bloody week. You think they'd take me if they found out I've been growing pot in my school's church since last year?"

Zayn snorted, the sound echoing down the hall.

Louis shot him a vicious glare. "What?" he spat, nodding in Zayn's direction.

"We're just really badass," the boy sighed, eyeing the ceiling dreamily.

Louis quirked an eyebrow, smirked, and then followed suit. "Yeah, I guess we are."

Their fist bump was interrupted by the sound of an angry custodian calling for their attention from a doorway at the end of the hall. He stood hunched over in gray, baggy trousers and a dust-tinted royal blue polo, and his tapping foot and waving arms made it clear Louis and Zayn should hurry up and explain why there were twenty marijuana plants growing from the ceiling.

"Uhm... hola," Louis began, stopping three feet in front of the short, middle-aged man. "Te gustan... los drugos?"

Zayn elbowed Louis in the gut, provoking an echoing gasp and string of curses.

The janitor crossed his arms and muttered something Spanish under his breath before turning to Zayn. "So are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on here?" he demanded in a thick latino accent. "Did you seriously think nobody was going to find this?"

Twisting his mouth in thought, Louis recalled the initial discussion he and Zayn had in which they mapped out the entire plan, and it still seemed foolproof. To be fair, it wasn't even their plan; The abandoned church had been completely vacant for semester after semester. Older friends had used it for the same purpose for years and had never gotten caught, which made him wonder.

"I thought this building was completely forgotten," he found himself saying, ignoring Zayn's daggers. "Like... I've never seen anyone come in here before."

They walked through the door, and Louis and Zayn were faced with mountains of black trash bags stuffed with their blood, sweat, and tears.

"They've got us renovating it," the man explained, wrinkling his nose at the floor. "I've been taking orders from some hippy 'bout turning it into a...a ukulele hall. Can you imagine...I don’t even know what the fuck a ukulele is."

And then the custodian went on about how much religious crap he'd been cleaning out of the basement, how this hippy kid had gotten fifty people to sign a petition to get the funding, but Louis could barely focus with the name of one particular hippy ringing in his brain.

"Wait," he managed, cutting the guy off with a finger in the air. "This kid you're complaining about... does he have long, brown hair?" Louis asked, Zayn's eye roll dominating his peripheral vision.

Lifting a hand to scratch at his scalp, the short, latino man gave a throaty hum. "Yeah. Wears those checkered shirts? Kinda looks like a farmer?"

"Oh _no_ ," Zayn piped up before covering his mouth with his palm. He coughed out a laugh as Louis froze beside him, making no sound other than the occasional wheeze.

The janitor blinked. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Eyes dead and staring at the opposite wall, Louis pushed pass Zayn and the janitor and walked to the center of the room. The bags decorated the tiled floor, where robes and chalices and miniature statues of Jesus Christ  were shoved to the walls.

Louis tried to avoid Jesus's cold stare as he bent over to scoop up one of the bags. “Come on, Zayn,” he said, voice robotic and movements stiff. “We gotta go take these somewhere else.”

With a stammering “Uhm,” Zayn spared the janitor a quick glance before joining Louis. He began grabbing bags until he had two in each hand, leaving three left on the tiled floor. “We’ll come back and get those later I guess,” he said before spinning around to face the door.

Louis followed him as he headed for the doorway until the janitor cleared his throat. “I don’t think so,” he said with a devious smirk. Zayn and Louis shared a look of discomfort as they turned around. “Did you still want me to keep this whole thing to myself?”

Zayn blew a raspberry while eyeing the ceiling. “I mean, ideally.”

“It’d be a shame if you were to get in trouble, no?” he continued, raising an eyebrow and stroking his chin.

Zayn scoffed, more amused than irritated. Meanwhile, Louis had his nails between his teeth as he eyed a blank spot on the wall. He only snapped out of it when Zayn clasped a hand around his shoulders. “Huh?” he said, blinking back to reality. “Oh. Oh yeah, take it-”

“ _Lou_ ,” Zayn hissed under his breath, grip tightening, no doubt leaving a mark in Louis’ flesh.

“What?” Louis replied, eyes wide as he wiped a palm against his jeans. “I told you. I can’t get in trouble. Just leave the rest for the nice man,” he continued, gesturing to the grinning janitor. “Harry’s dorm room is small anyway.”

Zayn squinted, and the janitor tilted his head as they both let out a simultaneous “¿Qué?”

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

“Pizza delivery for Harry Styles,” Louis said, attempting to lower his voice while beating the door with his palm. He exhaled, stern eyes locked on the floor as he awaited Harry’s inevitably obnoxious reply.

“Is it vegan?” a familiar voice called through the door, triggering an instant eye roll from both Zayn and Louis.

Louis closed his eyes and leaned up against the door, letting his forehead rest against it. “Yes,” he croaked, not bothering to disguise his voice again.

“Locally grown ingredients,” Zayn chimed in with a grin. Louis turned so his cheek was now squished against the door. He eyed the bags of weed before throwing his friend a smiling nod, appreciating the joke.

Within the next second, the door clicked open and Louis was falling forward with an ear-piercing squeal. Harry looked down at him with a confused frown, while Louis wasn’t looking at anything except Harry’s bare cock.

“The fuck?” he cried from his knees, not bothering to redirect his stare. “Why are you- why would you open the- why?”

Harry shook his head briefly at Louis, who was too busy jeering at the black headband pushing back his curls. Harry’s lips jutted out in a baby-like pout, and then he was looking past him at the black bags. “This isn’t pizza. This is trash,” he observed before looking up at Zayn, whose head was now just peeking around from the hallway.

“No,” Zayn answered before giggling shakily. “Trash... is what you find in a mirror.”

Louis finally stopped looking at Harry’s cock to turn and offer Zayn a fist bump. Instead of bumping his fist, Zayn grabbed it to hoist him up from the floor. Louis grunted before dusting himself off. “What he said.”

After pursing his lips together, Harry crossed his arms across his naked stomach. “That was rude, Louis,” he said with a tilted head, to which Louis responded with a _tsk_ and a shrug.

“You know what’s _rude_ , Harry Styles?” he retorted before turning around and waving his hand at Zayn and then the pile of trash bags. Understanding the request, Zayn began gathering bags in each hand, walking them past Harry and depositing them in the center of the room. “What’s really _rude_ is ruining our year-long plan for income with your stupid fucking singalong club.” Louis stepped closer to the naked boy, hands on his own hips. “That’s what’s fucking rude.”

Harry squinted, pout becoming more prominent. “What are you talking about? What plan are you-” He spared a glance toward the floor, where all of the weed had been piled. “What’s in the bags?” he asked, dropping his hands at his sides.

“Pot,” Zayn answered, back in the doorway again. His unamused glare faltered to a hesitant scan over Louis and Harry’s increasingly close bodies. “Listen, I can like… leave if you wanna-”

“What are you talking about?” Louis interrupted with his scowl still locked on the boy in front of him. “Don't leave. I need backup.”

“And I need a witness,” Harry added, his wide eyes locked on Louis’ cold stare.

Zayn blinked. “Like… someone to film you guys?” he asked, head jolted back slightly.

“Fuck you. We’re not gonna fucking fuck, you fuck,” Louis said.

Zayn squinted at the last word. “Whatever you say,” he answered before spinning around and throwing a hand in the air. “See ya back at the dorm. Use protection, you fuck.”

And then Zayn was gone, leaving the situation in the hands of Louis, who - rightfully so - was a bit distracted. It wasn’t that Harry was hard or anything. It was all just a bit of a shock, considering Louis came over to scold the younger boy and ended up on his knees in front of his junk. Harry’s perfectly tranquil demeanor threw him off even more. “So why are you naked?” Louis asked finally. He did his best to avoid looking down at the topic of discussion while he spoke.

Harry laughed, and then he shrugged. “I dunno,” he began before twirling around and walking toward his bed. “Just am.” He sat down, bare feet hovering over the blue-carpeted floor.

“Because if you were about to call me over or something…” Louis warned.

Harry rolled his eyes before motioning toward a burgundy bean bag chair on the floor by the window. Louis begrudgingly took the invitation and plopped down into it, his feet involuntarily shooting up in the air as his small frame sunk down into the material. “I just like being naked, okay?” Harry explained, lacing his fingers over his limp dick.

Louis hummed shortly. “Okay,” he settled while adjusting himself in the bean bag chair. “Well, Harry, that’s real quirky of you. Congratulations.”

The curly-haired boy grinned, lifted his shoulders, then dropped them. “Thanks, Lou.”

“Don’t call me Lou,” the smaller boy protested immediately. “I don’t know you like that.”

Harry frowned, toes overlapping in a full-body sulk. “Lou Lou?” he tried, his pout fading to a teasing giggle.

“No,” Louis said. “Absolutely not.”

“But we’re semi-regular sexual partners,” Harry stated, extending his hand as if he were reasoning something serious, not an argument using the words _semi-regular sexual partners_ or _Lou Lou._ He twisted his mouth at Louis, looking genuinely distraught. “I’ve been inside you.”

Louis fell backward. He was now lying horizontally on the bean bag chair and coughing up saliva. “Don’t-” _Cough._ “Say things like that,” he sputtered, putting his hands on the floor and pushing himself back up. “That’s fucking _weird_.”

Harry pulled a face. “You’re fucking weird,” he said, voice abnormally stern. The curse and its delivery sent an instant chill down Louis’ spine - an unwelcome one at that. Harry wasn’t supposed to have that effect on him. Louis wasn’t into dudes who started ukulele clubs in church basements, but he was into dudes with long, toned legs and sun kissed cheeks. He was into blokes that could take control and put him in his place but also take orders. Harry was all of those wrapped in a rather clumsy package with a floppy bow dangling off the side. It was a package Louis opened from time to time; too bad he hated himself every time he did.

And too bad this was one of those times.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, eyes widening as Louis began unbuttoning his jeans. He quirked an eyebrow, and Louis just huffed, rolled his eyes, and continued to get rid of his clothes.

“Are you gonna help me or what?” Louis quipped. He shoved his jeans and boxers down to his ankles in one motion, gasping at the sudden chill of the AC. “Or are you just gonna sit there and look pretty?”

That got Harry’s attention. “You think I’m pretty?” he asked, pouncing off the bed and extending a hand to Louis. “Here, lemme help you up.”

Louis met him halfway, hoisting himself up using Harry’s sturdy arm. When he landed on his feet, he stepped out of his jeans and underwear and then his navy vans, leaving him in nothing but a t-shirt. “Care to do the honors?” he breathed, face inches away from Harry’s.

Harry began to say something, but his breath hitched and fell to nothing. He curled his fingers under the hem of Louis’ shirt and lifted it over his head. Once it was off, Harry chucked it to the floor and gave Louis a steady once over. “Nice,” he said to Louis’ erection. “So…”

“So lie down,” Louis finished, placing his small hands on the front of Harry’s broad shoulders. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

Harry stumbled backward, wincing as his tail bone hit the edge of his bed. “Wait wait,” he said before resting his hands against the bed frame and lifting himself up onto the mattress. “I didn’t think… I’m not like-”

“What,” Louis demanded, stroking each hand up Harry’s thighs while spreading them subtly. “You don’t want me to open you up with my fingers?” he purred, eyes darkening as he ducked in closer to Harry’s crotch. He breathed out, hoping his breath would tickle Harry’s hardon before realizing - “Harry, why the fuck are you soft?”

Louis backed away, while Harry exhaled roughly. He eyed the ceiling and gave a shrug. “I dunno. I’m just not really in the mood.”

Louis’ mouth parted slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “Not in the m- Harry, I am naked for God’s sake. Why would you just let me get naked if you weren’t gonna let me fuck you?” he asked, exasperated. He winced at the cool air tickling his balls, while Harry shrugged once more.

“I thought maybe we could just hang out,” Harry explained as if Louis had asked him the color of the sky. “We never just hang out-”

“Hang out,” Louis echoed. “ _Hang out?_ ” He used one hand to snatch at his clothes, while the other gestured at his stiff cock pressed against his stomach. “You might be _hanging out_ , but I’m like… _standing up_ over here. Seriously, what is your problem?”

Harry’s mouth twitched as he crossed his ankles, pressing his thighs together. He looked down at his lap and gave a melodious hum. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, bringing his shoulder to his ear to scratch it. “I just didn’t think that we were gonna get each other off every time we saw each other, that’s all.”

Louis squinted. Harry was being weird, but then again, when wasn’t he?

“You can fuck me if you want,” he continued, lacing his fingers once more before looking back up at Louis. “But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna be catching up on some reading while you do so.” He reached over to his nightstand and held up a dusty, hard-cover book with a drawing of a woman on the front. “Poetry to be exact.”

Louis squinted at the title. “Emily Dickinson?” he said, throwing the book a nod. Harry smiled down at the book and then up at Louis. “Cool. I’m more of a Poe man myself, though,” he confessed seriously, eyes wandering over Harry, looking for the approval he wish he didn’t want.

“Oh,” Harry said, eyebrows furrowed. He coughed while setting the book down next to him. “That seems a bit morbid for you,” he added, tilting his head. He laughed when Louis gave his best brooding stare out the window.

“What can I say?” the older boy projected, hand fisted over his bare chest. “I get moody when I have blue balls.”

Harry barked out in laughter before slapping his hand against his mouth. Louis snorted, impressed with himself. He pursed his lips together, just looking at the boy in front of him before finally allowing himself to break out in a genuine smile.

They spent the rest of the hour like that: Harry kicking his feet and cackling at something Louis said and Louis basking in Harry’s reaction. It wasn’t too bad really - just two classmates having a laugh, right? But then Louis saw the bags on the floor and was instantly reminded of his initial motive for being there.

“Wait a second,” Louis said, interrupting his own laughter. Harry’s grin fell to a straight line, his eyes losing life at Louis’ change of tone. “I’m still mad at you,” he continued before stepping back into the wad of boxers and jeans on the floor. He hoisted them up in one swift motion before walking over to the center of the floor.

“Why?” Harry asked, concern threaded in his voice as he watched Louis pick up the bags and throw them in his closet. “Why are you putting marijuana in my closet. It doesn’t belong there.”

“Because, _Harry_. Though I hate to screw up the clearly meticulous nature in which you organize your dorm room,” he started while scanning a well-dusted shelf of Buddhism knick knacks (fat Buddha, skinny Buddha, and the elephant all displayed in height order). “I need a place to store my dope without putting me and Zayn in any danger of getting in trouble.”

While Louis flung the last bag into the overflowing closet, Harry rubbed a tense hand up and down his arm, eyebrows knitting atop his confused stare.

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know,” Louis huffed as he returned to the bed.

Harry shook his head warily. His eyes held on firmly to Louis’ impatient glare.

Louis’ mouth fell open. “Your fucking club?” he began, opening his arms and leaning forward. “They found our stash because of you, you know. And of course you probably think you’re some god damn saint for getting us caught in such an unspeakable act, you selfish little-”

“Oh my God,” Harry interrupted, resting his fingertips over his bottom lip, his questioning squint easing into horrified realization.

“Yeah,” Louis confirmed. “So thanks for that.” Harry shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. His eyes fell to the floor, coating it with guilt that Louis wasn’t necessarily expecting. But he nodded to assure Harry that his feelings were spot on.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry finally said. He bit the inside of his lip while looking up at Louis, who was a bit taken aback to be honest. “I had no idea. Shit, that’s like… a huge project. I can’t believe I fucked that up. I didn’t even think-”

“ _Harry_. It’s…” Louis blinked while tracing over Harry’s furrowed brow and pouting lips, taking in the sincerity woven into his tone and expression. He eyed Harry’s fingers kneading together before flicking his gaze upward. “It’s okay. I forgive you,” he finally said, voice cracking slightly. “It’s fine.”

Louis had to shake his head - at his own words, his own feelings. How dare Harry pull this puppy dog bullshit on him? He deserved to feel sorry, and he deserved to take the blame if someone were to find the closet pot. Louis shouldn’t have been so sympathetic just because the kid looked like the fucking pillsbury dough boy.

His eyes narrowed. “Just keep it hidden, don’t use any of it, and if you tell anybody about it, I will hang you by your dick from the football stadium’s flag pole,” he warned while poking harshly at Harry’s bird tattoo.

That was better. That was more in character.

“Alright,” Harry answered, having leaned back a bit. He gave Louis a hint of a giggle, to which the older boy responded by carrying through with his momentum and knocking Harry down on his back. It was then that Louis noticed the other boy was hard.

Louis groaned. “Seriously?”

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

Louis woke up with the dawning realization that he needed to practice penalties. The Rovers tryout was days away, and he had been too distracted by recent events and people. Clouds filtered the late April sun, giving Louis the perfect opportunity to hit the field. The only problem was he needed a goalie, and the last time Zayn stood in for him, he ended up with a nose bleed like a scarlet waterfall. (Zayn still held this against Louis months later, even though the selfie he took before cleaning himself up earned him an A+ in his art portfolio).

“Liam, you literally just have to stand there, alright?” Louis called as he bent over to line up the ball. “Nothing too fancy, yeah?”

Liam wasn’t listening. He was too busy doing foot-fires with his back facing the field. “ _I’m the best. I’m the best_ ,” he yelled to himself, to which Louis responded by kicking the ball square in his back. “ _Hey_ ,” he cried, spinning around before doubling over. He picked up the ball and chucked it back at Louis.

“Focus!” Louis yelled, pointing two fingers at Liam and then at his own eyes. “Can you just stand still please? That is literally all I am asking you to do.” He dropped his hands at his sides as Liam began dancing from one side of the goal to the other. “You look like a dying mosquito,” Louis observed, hopeless.

When Liam didn’t stop, choosing to perform a hybrid of the cotton eyed joe and the stanky leg instead, Louis lined up the ball once more. Whether Liam was going to get a concussion or not, Louis needed to practice.

He backpedalled until he stood over three feet behind the ball, scanned the net left to right and top to bottom, and ran forward. The second he kicked the ball, he knew he’d gotten under it far too much. This assumption proved true once the spinning sphere flew far beyond the goal and into the bushes behind the fence.

“ _Ow_ ,” cried a voice in the distance, and then a sprawled out Harry Styles was lying on the grass with a soccer ball rolling a few feet away from him. “Hello darkness my old frieeeend,” Louis then heard him sing.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned, blinking at the roadkill deer lying flat on his back and then at the squashed mosquito in the corner of the goal. He just stood there, one eye twitching while his foot tapped against the turf.

“I’ve come to talk to you agaaaaain,” Harry continued, fingers laced over his stomach.

“Is he...Liam, can you see if he’s okay?” Louis said, voice involuntarily softening as he gestured to the pile of limbs coming out of the forest. He was so beyond done at this point that he decided to sit down, legs folded in criss cross applesauce.

Liam huffed, swinging himself around the goal post before stomping toward the fence. “You didn’t ask if my _spine_ was okay,” he growled, flipping the bird over his shoulder. Louis was too proud of Liam for knowing his basic body parts to care.

While Liam checked on Harry, Louis fell back onto the turf, facing the sky with his eyes closed. Though he’d normally storm over and interrogate the curly kid until he cried, he lacked the energy and concern. Harry being weird had become a routine - a routine that Louis had no time for when his tryout was days away. As long as he had ample practice time and was getting laid on a semi-regular basis, Louis was at peace.

A gust of wind tumbled over him, sending his long hair slapping and flailing against the ground. He should probably have gotten it cut, especially when he’d be playing football so soon. But the campus had no such services, and Zayn made him look like a Backstreet Boy last time, so he would just have to deal with it.

His train of thought came to a halt when a large shadow covered him. The orange tint behind his eyelids faded to black, and Louis blinked his eyes open.

“Hellooooooo,” a cheery voice sang.

Louis squinted up at Harry, who was leaning over him with the ball cradled in one arm, smiling and waving like a beauty pageant finalist. “Hello,” Louis greeted flatly. Harry just stood there smiling like an idiot, so Louis patted the ground next to him, feeling like he had no other option. “Where’d Liam go?” he asked as Harry lied down beside him.

“Went back to his dorm,” Harry explained as he closed his eyes. “Said something about icing his back.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “And you?” he said, letting his head fall to the side. He scanned Harry and his signature brown boots, his painted on skinny jeans (Pajama Jeans, no doubt), and a baggy white shirt with a woman’s hand scattered over the fabric.

“Where did _I_ go?” Harry asked with a smirk, his dimple dominating Louis’ focus.

Louis groaned before lightly slapping the green between them. “No, you idiot. Why are you here?” he asked, only allowing himself to smile a little bit (Harry still had his eyes closed, so it was okay.)

“I was writing,” Harry stated plainly. He blinked his eyes open and turned to face Louis. The sudden eye contact shook the ground beneath Louis’ back, or so it seemed. But what really triggered the seismic waves was Harry clearing his throat and saying “About you,” in a completely sober tone.

Louis squinted and twisted his mouth in order to thwart any flattered grins tugging at his cheeks. “Oh really,” he managed. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough pieces about me?” Though he laughed haughtily, Louis was genuinely curious. Regardless of his body’s reaction, it was still weird - Harry writing about him… again. It would have been the third time this year if you ignore the one that Louis sort of wrote for him.

“I don’t think that,” Harry replied, one side of his lip tugging upward. Louis shifted where he lay. “I do think, however, that maybe _you_ could write more about _me_ ,” he continued, breaking out into a full-fledged grin. “Unless your recent pieces about David Beckham had some hidden meaning that I missed.”

Louis’ lips parted, and his eyebrows rose. He couldn’t tell if Harry was being serious, and it made an unwelcome warmth churn around in his stomach. “Why are you being so fucking weird lately?” he spat, probably too harshly. Okay, definitely too harshly, because Harry’s grin had fallen to a scared frown, and he immediately rolled over to face the sky.

Louis did the same, fingers fiddling with one another and the toes of his cleats tapping together. He was at a loss for words, which could have been fixed had he known what the fuck was going on. He could tell something was off and that he probably fucked up in some royal way, but he was admittedly clueless. He did know, however, that Harry was upset and that maybe he should try and fix that. He should lighten the mood; He was capable of that much. “I like your pajama jeans,” Louis said finally.

[hannah montana transition music]

 

**Never mind**

_by Harry Styles_

 

_I thought I saw it:_

_That look in your eye_

_When something kept you_

_From saying goodbye_

_Or when you told me_

_To lay by your hand_

_You called me someone_

_You couldn’t stand_

 

_But I was taught_

_To read between the lines_

_And now I’m left_

_To pay my fines_

_Because I let go_

_I let myself fall_

_And as it turns out_

_You don’t care at all_

 

“What the fuck did you do to this kid?” Zayn said, shaking his head at the latest issue of the literary magazine. He sat in a beige desk, the kind with the chair attached to the table top, while Louis lay flat on the classroom floor.

“I didn’t know,” he groaned at the ceiling, kicking his feet back and forth like a three-year-old. “Stop making me the bad guy. Everyone makes me the bad guy.” Louis sat up, indignantly flopping his hands down at his sides.

Zayn set the magazine on the desk before turning to face Louis. He narrowed his eyes before blinking slowly. “You referred to him as Satan for the whole first semester,” he deadpanned, earning a dramatic eye roll from the smaller boy.

“Exactly,” he huffed, extending a hand out in front of him. “ _Satan_ is the bad guy.”

Zayn spat through his teeth. “Oh, come off it. I’ve hated him long enough for your sake, but you don’t even hate him,” he complained, glaring at Louis. “You...opposite of hate him.”

“Don’t say it,” Louis hissed. “Don’t you d-”

“ _You want him to be your one and only penis_ ,” he jeered, leaning forward and adding extra bite to each word.

Louis gasped, hand clutching at his white t-shirt. “ _You said it_ ,” he growled before pushing himself up with his hands and stomping toward the door. “I’m mad at you,” he said. Zayn shrugged. “I’m going home, and I’m locking you out. Have fun sleeping at Liam’s.”

Zayn snorted. “Okay, will do,” he said before winking.

Louis gagged. “That’s disgusting. Can you please not make those type of references in my presence, because I literally just had lunch… literally _just_ had lunch… literally… you filthy dishcloth toe-fucking vampire child.”

Louis exhaled.

Zayn tilted his head slowly. “Did you just call Liam a toe?”

With one foot out the door, Louis threw Zayn a look of pity. “Are you really going to argue against that statement?” he asked, lowering his head and looking up through his eyelashes.

Zayn pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, actually I was gonna compliment you on the on-point analogy,” he explained seriously, looking impressed. “But for real, now that you mention me and Liam...if I can admit to having the hots for what you recently described to me as a - what did you call him before?”

“A dying mosquito,” Louis chimed in. “...Uh, also a toe.”

Zayn nodded appreciatively. “Yes. Thank you. If I can admit to having the hots for a dying toe with bad mosquito bites-”

Louis wrinkled his forehead.

“-then you can admit to liking Harry, who literally doesn’t even look like a toe.”

“ _It’s true_ ,” came a voice that- ...was not Louis’… or Zayn’s. It was followed by a burst of cackles, and Louis’ gaze shot to the corner of the room, where Niall was standing, beet red and flailing against the wall. “ _He looks nothing like a toe at all_ ,” he wheezed, banging the wall with his fist.

While Zayn almost had a heart attack when he spun around, Louis simply dragged a hand over his face and exhaled slowly. “Hello, Niall,” he greeted plainly, throwing the blonde boy a short nod. “You’ve been here the whole time, yeah?”

Niall nodded, ignoring Zayn’s horrified stare. “Yep,” he said as his wheezing calmed down. “And I really think you and Harry should give it a try.”

Louis dropped his gaze to the floor as he wiped a knuckle across his brow. “Goodbye, lads,” he said before spinning around and shutting the door behind him.

 

[hannah montana transition music / irish jig mashup]

 

“Who keeps a pencil in their pants pocket anyway?” Louis complained as he and Zayn walked down the stairs leading to the church’s basement. It was a trip Louis never thought he would make again, especially knowing what (and who) he might find down there now, but Zayn had begged him. _It’s my lucky pencil_ , he had whined. _I used it for my Batman and Robin erotica sketch. It got me a B plus, Louis. A B plus!_

Needless to say, Louis was a very loyal friend.  

As they approached the same room in which they confronted the janitor, Louis heard a discordant noise he feared of hearing the moment he agreed to help Zayn find his pencil. It was awful, really. It brought Louis back to when his eldest sister assured him that she could become Youtube famous by doing musical covers. This was even worse though, because the person leading the chorus of ukuleles was the same guy who had just written poetry about him in the same tone as every Evanescence song.

“You go in. I’ll be right here,” Louis said, twirling his way to the wall and pressing his back against it. He made a gun with his hands for greater effect.  

Zayn dropped his hands at his sides and groaned from the back of his throat. “Really, Louis? I don’t know him as well as you. It’ll be awkward,” he said in a whining whisper.

“ _Awkward?_ ” Louis hissed, tossing a hand in the air. “I’m the one he wrote angsty poetry about, not you.”

Zayn frowned at the floor. “How do you know it wasn’t about me?” he brooded before adjusting his quiff in what seemed like slow motion.

Louis crossed his arms, giving him a pointed look. “Fuck off,” he scolded. “Don’t be jealous.”

“Liam can’t even spell my name,” Zayn blurted, accompanied by a pained expression.

Louis opened his mouth to respond, but his breath hitched when he processed Zayn’s words. “Oh.”

“Please come in with me.”

“Of course.”

 

The room looked different from last time, Louis observed. Though some of the Jesus statues and candles had been put on display, sparking some familiarity, the plain white walls had been covered with posters you’d find in a kindergarten classroom.

_Reach for the stars_ , one of them said in rainbow lettering set over a photo of a kitten looking up at a night sky. Louis squinted at it momentarily before shifting his gaze to one with a confused farmer staring straight back at- oh wait, that was Harry.

“Hello,” Louis sang nervously. His heart thrummed against his chest as he scanned the room full of boys and girls in thick-framed glasses and plaid flannels (Yes, it really was that cliché.) Harry was the only one in a ten gallon hat, however (Ten gallons was exaggerating a little bit...maybe eight gallons). Perhaps it symbolized his leadership position in the club.

“Erm,” Zayn piped up when Harry remained silent. He gave a small wave as if no one had even seen him come in. “I lost my pencil here, so…I’m just gonna look around a bit if you guys don’t mind. Sorry to interrupt.”

The whole room seemed to turn to Harry, who took up one spot in an oval of chairs, where about ten or more students held ukuleles in their laps. When the curly-haired boy’s eyes remained on Louis, the rest of the room returned to their ukuleles.

“Okay,” Zayn mumbled before getting on his hands and knees. “That’s just- okay.”

You could pluck the tension with a ukulele pick, Louis thought. Harry looked frozen, lips apart with the occasional spit bubble popping between them. One hand tightened around the neck of his light-wood ukulele, while the other slid into the air-tight pocket of his jeans.

Louis probably didn’t look much different; he didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t even have a ukulele, which made him question how he’d survived his entire life without a wooden instrument distracting his hands from awkward situations. He resorted to stuffing them in the back pocket of his own jeans, cupping his ass over the fabric, and _why the fuck was he doing that?_ More importantly, why was he thinking about the way Harry would do the same thing with _his_ hands?

He coughed, tearing his eyes from the taller boy. “Any progress Zayn?” he pleaded. By now, Zayn was picking up and putting down Jesus statues one by one, his expression becoming more and more frantic. “Maybe you didn’t leave it here after all,” he suggested before removing his hands from his pockets, rubbing off the accumulated sweat as he dragged them upward.

“That can’t be,” Zayn wheezed, stuffing his hand into a silver chalice. “It just can’t b-”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Louis snapped. He spared a glance to Harry before sending daggers toward his best friend, who frowned up at him from Harry’s feet. “Let’s go.”

Zayn sprung up on his feet, dusted himself off, and gave Harry a nervous smile. “Sorry again,” he said, waving meekly to the rest of the room before joining Louis’ side. They both tiptoed out the door, chucking mumbled apologies and goodbyes over their shoulders.

“ _Was that the boy?_ ” a female voice chimed from the room.

It was immediately followed by a sharp hiss and a “ _Please be quiet, Rain_ ,” coming from a voice Louis recognized as Harry’s.

Louis clenched his teeth. Zayn froze in his tracks.

“Wait a second,” he said, hands stroking over the front of his jeans. His eyes lit up when he pulled out a three-inch pencil with black duct tape covering the paint. “It was in my pocket this whole time!... Isn’t that funny, Lou?... Lou?”

Louis was not listening. Louis was too busy beating his head against the cinder block wall.

 

[grunge hannah montana transition music]

 

The morning of Louis’ tryout snuck up on him, kind of like the way Niall did every time he saw him (Louis ducked his head under the bed just to make sure he wasn’t there at this very moment. The coast was clear.)

Louis was prepared - he’d been practicing his footwork, working out every morning, doing penalty shots (into Liam’s spine) - but that didn’t dissipate the nerves tingling against his flesh as he packed his bag that morning.

“Don’t forget your water bottle,” Zayn said from the top bunk. Louis threw him a glare as he snatched his blue Camelbak from his desk and shoved it in his black Nike bag. “Just wanted to make sure you stay hydrated,” he defended, hands out in front of him.

“Thanks, mum,” Louis growled before chucking a dirty, balled up sock at Zayn’s head. “But I can very well handle myself, alright? It’s just a small club tryout, yeah?”

“Well, to your surprise, I actually do listen to you go on about it every day, and it seems as though it’s quite a _big_ club, and they’ve offered to drive all the way the Manchester to scout just you, so it sounds like a big deal to me.” Zayn shrugged before flopping down on his back. “Drops mic.”

Louis opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. “Did you just say _drops mic?_ ” he asked, blinking rapidly.

Zayn bobbed his head to some imaginary music while giving Louis a thumbs up. “Don’t let the nerves keep you from performing to your best abilities, bro,” he preached, sounding like some wise, old hippy.

Louis clenched his jaw. “I’m not nervous,” he grumbled, turning around to zip up his bag. “Why would you even think that?” He heard a muffled snort behind him, and he tapped his foot impatiently at the feeling of ridicule burning into his back. “ _What?_ ” he snapped, whirling around.

Zayn let his arm flop over the side of the bunk and used it to gesture toward Louis’ crotch. “You’ve got your boxers over your trackies, bro.”

Louis looked down to discover that his lucky Captain America boxers were indeed over his grey sweatpants. He just sighed.

“Don’t worry, my dude,” Zayn continued, lying on his side and smiling down at Louis. (Zayn was scary in the mornings.) “The boys and I are gonna be there to cheer you on, remember?” he said while pumping a languid fist in the air. Meanwhile, Louis was scrambling to fix the current state of his lower half.

Once his trackies had been pulled up over his boxers, the petite brunette started scratching his beard. “Yeah, I’m still not too sure ‘bout that idea, mate,” he advised through clenched teeth. “I appreciate the support, but I don’t want any distractions, you know?”

Zayn threw him a wave. “Naaah, it’ll be fun - like a little tailgating experience. I’ll keep everyone in line, yeah?” He held a cheesy, open-mouthed grin until Louis finally exhaled.

After blowing a raspberry, the older boy crossed his arms and shrugged. “Yeah, whatever,” he eventually agreed. Zayn gave a falsetto _woooo_ , and Louis raised a stern finger in the air. “But no funny business,” he admonished, eyes narrowing.

Zayn nodded slowly, eyes drooping until they closed. He murmured a few _yeah yeah yeah_ ’s and then fell back against his pillow.

“Goodnight, Zayn,” Louis sighed before grabbing his bag and walking out the door.

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

These men were big.

They weren’t big in a _pin me against the wall and fuck me_ sort of way. No, it was more in a _are you sure you’re not here to play American football_ way. Needless to say, Louis was definitely the runt of the group, making it completely obvious to any bypassers that he was the one who did not belong.

He _could_ belong, though; his tryout was going well, aside from the one time he knocked himself on the ass after kicking the ball. The other boys - men? - seemed to like him, and he was not only surviving but excelling at every drill they challenged him with.

Twenty minutes into the tryout, and Louis had gone with no distractions. Everything was him, the team, the field, and the ball. He barely eyed that one spot in the bushes - Harry’s favorite spot apparently -  because the kid didn’t want to be within a five kilometer radius of him lately. Although the thought wasn’t exactly settling, it provided him with focus in this particular situation - a focus that was helpful, calming, but shortlived.

A white pickup truck backed into a space at the top of the hill next to the top row of stadium stairs, the driver of which Louis recognized as Liam Payne. Sitting in the back, each of them holding a red solo cup, was none other than Zayn Malik, Niall Horan, and Harry Styles.

“Fuck,” Louis whispered before getting nailed in the head with a soccer ball. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said again, this time not caring who heard.

A few of the players jogged over to him, extending concerned arms and offering soft _you okay_ ’s. Louis appreciated them stifling their laughter. He didn’t dare look up the hill to assess the newcomers’ reactions, however, because that was probably a completely different story.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he said, laughing it off. “Just got a little distracted I guess.”

_Distracted_. It was the one excuse Louis promised himself he wouldn’t need that day. He would have even allowed himself to put any necessary blame on his shaggy, untamed hair getting in his eyes but not his friends and definitely not Harry.

“Why don’t we all take a quick water break?” the team captain bellowed with a clap. Soon, everyone was hurding toward the bench, sweat trickling off their damp flesh and onto the field. Louis was no different; he’d been working hard, not to mention he’d been dealing with a minor panic attack as well. Why was Harry here? Wasn’t he tired of surprising Louis at this field?

Louis snuck a quick glance up the hill and eyed the red solo cups. He nodded consideringly, taking into account that they all must be a bit tipsy. Perhaps Harry had tagged along for the free booze. Louis then snorted, because his friends _would_ get drunk at one in the afternoon.

All theories aside, Louis whipped out his phone to shoot Zayn a text demanding an explanation.

 

**Zayn <3: ** _we passed him on our way here n he looked bummed out :( so we asked if he wanted to tag along._

**Loubear:** _and u thought this would help him?!? bringing him to my tryout?!!!! <tribal mask emoji>_

**Zayn <3: ** _he’s proper drunk and havin a laugh sooooo yea.._

**Zayn <3: ** _ya know he’s actually p cool lou, u 2 shud definitely make the babies_

**Loubear:** _i have to go. stop drinking._

 

Louis set a reminder in his phone titled “PUNCH ZAYN IN THE NARDS” before chucking it in his bag.

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

All Louis saw was dark strands of brown hair flopping in front of him. The ball was somewhere at his feet - he knew that much - but the sweatier he got, the lower his fringe hung in front of his face. _At least I don’t have to look at Liam and Zayn undoubtedly making out in the back of a pickup truck_ , he thought bitterly before clumsily passing the ball. _And at least I’ll have some alcohol waiting for me right after I’ve been cut._

Right then and there, after getting beat by an opposing offender, Louis vowed to get a buzz cut the second he got home. Hair was stupid anyway; it only got in the way and ruined lifelong dreams. Furthermore, its tickling sensation between his thighs caused major discomfort when getting sucked off. Curly hair was the worst, Louis concluded. He hated tugging on it and ruffling it, and  - _fuck_ , could his hormones please take a goddamn break? He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He could wank when he got to the dorm, but he had more pressing issues to address... like his god damn _hair._

“Alright, everyone take another breather,” the captain hollered. Louis’ shoulders relaxed, along with the rest of his aching body. His brain, however, continued racing a thousand miles per hour. He jogged to his bag once more before practically tearing it open. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for (a hat, a hair tie… a pair of scissors?), but when he found nothing to help his current situation, he released a throaty groan and stomped away from the bench.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, pacing beneath the bleachers. His hands hovered above his head before falling to his sides. “Un- _fucking_ -believable,” he continued, not really knowing what he was cursing at. Though his troublesome mane seemed to be the culprit for his subpar performance, Louis couldn’t help but shake a metaphorical fist at the top of the hill.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, considering his friends were just there to support him. But with Harry there, he felt a piercing pressure to show off, to be perfect, not because of any lingering feelings of course. Louis just liked to impress everyone, and he knew Harry for the least amount of time, so he had a bigger impression to make.

Louis groaned once more, feeling childish. Pushing all Harry-related anxiety aside, he just really wanted a quick fix to the hair problem. “I just need like a…” he mumbled to himself, pacing in circles on the concrete floor. “Like a…”

“Headband?”

Louis spun around, his lips frozen with the same word at the tip of his tongue. When he saw Harry, cheeks rosy from the alcohol and hair wind-swept from the drive, he relaxed. Though his fists should have been clenching at his sides and his eyes should have been bugging out, he just relaxed. “Yeah,” he managed. His voice was barely audible, practically mouse-like, but Harry heard him.

“I have one,” he said, almost urgently as if Louis were to explode at any second. He reached in his back pocket before pulling out the same elastic headband he’d been wearing in his room the day of the weed incident. “Here. Take it.”

Louis just looked at it. He thought of days earlier, when he’d yelled at Harry in his dorm room. He thought of the way the younger boy just wanted to “hang out,” when all Louis wanted to do was have the upper hand. He looked at the headband curled up in the palm of Harry’s hand, and he put his own hand over it. “Thank you, Harry,” he said, looking up at the taller boy for what seemed like minutes.

“Hey, it’s no pro-”

That’s all Harry could make out before Louis launched himself forward, sandwiching the headband between their palms and attacking Harry with an open-mouthed kiss.

Harry breathed into it, giving off the smell of Jack Daniel’s and strawberry Mentos. He curled a hand around Louis’ neck, while Louis dipped his fingertips in Harry’s breast pocket.

His lips practically devoured Louis’, to which the smaller boy responded by sinking his teeth in Harry’s bottom lip. He snickered when the sophomore released a high-pitched moan and soon eased over the wound with a flick of his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, gasping for air. He flicked his gaze down at Harry’s swollen lips; they were practically _scarlet_ , and Louis winced at the dawning realization that he had to go back on the field.

Shaking his head frantically, Harry sputtered out a few _no no no_ ’s and an “It’s okay. I know you have to go back.”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows before resting a hand over Harry’s shoulder. “No, I mean like...I’m _sorry_ ,” he repeated, stare unwavering against Harry’s dilated pupils. “For being an all-around prick to you.”

Harry open and closed his mouth, letting his eyes fall to the floor. Because he saw it in a movie once, Louis decided to pick his chin up with his index finger to regain eye contact. Harry giggled, becoming bashful.

“Harry Styles,” Louis whispered, inches away from the younger boy’s lips. “Would you like to hang out some time?”

Harry kissed him, closed-mouthed and wet. “Yes,” he answered through a laugh. He made a show of eyeing Louis’ sweat that had rubbed off on his own hand and wiped it off on the smaller boy’s shirt.

Louis caught his breath, knowing he’d have to expend more of it on the field. “Cool,” he said through his shaky panting. He suddenly felt like a teenager who’d just asked someone to the prom - all clammy hands and unsteady breathing. “I’ll uh… I’ll talk to you after then, yeah?” he said, pointing a thumb behind him at the field.

Harry nodded rapidly. “ _Yeah_ yeah, of course. Go kick some ass,” he grumbled in his best coach’s voice. He then shrugged and closed his eyes, ridiculing himself. Alcohol made Harry cute. Louis didn’t hate himself for admitting it.

He smiled down at the headband before stretching it out over both hands. “You sure I won’t look like a weird hipster?” he joked, looking up at Harry.

Harry pointed his toes inward. “You might look a bit like _me_ ,” he sang while bouncing up on his toes.

Louis nodded, slipping on the headband and pushing it back with both hands. “I guess I can live with that,” he said through a smirk.

Harry mirrored him, assessing the other boy’s hair. He slipped a finger underneath the headband before tucking a stray, brunette strand beneath it. “There you go,” he said. He patted Louis’ cheek, to which Louis responded with an eye roll. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Louis gave Harry a few light punches on each bicep, imitating a boxer pumping himself up before a match. With one more jab, Harry caught Louis’ fist in his own before giving it a sloppy, wet kiss. “You’re so fucking _weird_ ,” Louis whined, letting him go at it. When Harry froze and let his grin fall to a frown, Louis did the same. “And I like it,” he assured right away.

Harry pursed his lips at him, not quite blowing a kiss. Louis groaned. They were disgusting already. They were disgusting, and Louis needed to get back on the field to do manly, sweaty things.

“I have to go,” he said, practically ripping himself from where he stood before backpedalling toward the field. “Go back to the truck. _Save me some Jack_ ,” he called over his shoulder. He saw Harry shoot him a quick thumbs up, and then he was out of sight.

 

Throughout the remainder of the tryout, Louis was on fire. It was so cliché, the way Harry could light a flame under his ass and make him perform ten times better. His hubris told him it was just the headband keeping everything together, but Louis knew better.

He was dodging defenders left and right, daring to execute trick plays, and outright dominating the entire field. Even the oldest team members were calling things out like “Look at you, Tomlinson,” or even two-syllable _damn_ ’s. And everything was amplified because of his audience at the top of the hill.

 

“Tomlinson,” the captain called, waving Louis over at the end of the tryout. Louis jogged over, trying to ignore the pools of sweat cascading down his back. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Louis’ heart dropped as he played out every possible outcome in his brain. Had the first half of his tryout outweighed the last? Was he not as good as he thought in the last few drills? Had Harry inflated his ego that much?

“The good news,” the captain continued, smile tugging at his thin lips. “Is that you’ve made the team.”

Louis blinked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He snapped his jaw together when he realized how stupid he probably looked. “I made the- _oh…_ awesome,” he said, trying and failing to act casual. “Wow, thank you so much, but what’s the bad news?” he managed, seeing stars.

The captain laughed, covering his mouth with his monstrous hand before dropping it to his side. “The bad news is,” he began, giving Louis an exaggerated frown. “We travel a lot, and I’m not too sure your boyfriend is gonna make every trip.”

Louis pinched his mouth in a line. _Oh_ , he thought before sparing a quick glance to the truck. Harry was clutching a brown-tinted bottle and kicking his legs in Niall’s face. “ _It’s for Louis_ ,” Louis swore he heard him yelp. The captain just laughed, while Louis pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I think we’ll be okay,” was all he could come up with.

The muscular man - somewhere in his early thirties, Louis presumed - just clapped Louis on the shoulder. “Me too,” he bellowed with a genuine grin. “My husband and I have been making it work since my third season, so…”

Louis bit his lip to keep his mouth from flying open all over again. He just nodded, trying to act like today was just an ordinary day for him, not like his entire world had taken a massive leap and landed in perfect place..

“Alright, kid. Hit the showers,” he finally said, all too knowingly.

Louis obeyed, jogging over to the bench, tossing one last wave and “Thank you so much” over his shoulder. After walking through a swarm of congratulations from the rest of the team, he grabbed his bag and found himself speed-walking up the hill.

It was a long trudge, but even after hours of sprinting and dodging and kicking, the final exertion was worth the attack of hugs and hair-ruffles and even kisses.

“Dude, you’re like a pro footballer now,” Liam gushed, squeezing Louis’ bicep with one hand while clutching a solo cup in the other.

Louis sighed happily, only pausing to tell Liam to stop touching him. He then accepted the bottle Harry had held out for him, giving him a quick peck on the lips as a thank you.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Niall squealed, eyebrows furrowed and hands slapping against his mouth. “Is that a thing?” he asked, looking between Louis and Harry. “Please tell me that’s a thing.”

“Shut up, Nail,” Louis said at the same time Harry said “Yes.” Harry shot Louis a look, to which the older boy responded by pinching his cheek. “Yes, I mean,” he corrected himself, eyes locked with Harry’s.

Niall’s stunned grin fell to a confused stare. “Did you just call me nail?”

Louis shrugged while taking a swig of his beer. He then grabbed Harry’s wrist and gave it a gentle tug. “I need you for a sec,” he muttered before dragging him down the hill. Harry stumbled a bit, still undoubtedly tipsy, which was okay, because Louis was about to be too.

“Where you going?” Liam called. Louis waved him off, already having dragged Harry halfway down the hill. “We still have to celebrate.”

Zayn rubbed a hand into Liam’s shoulder before practically falling over into him. “Leave them be,” he slurred, eyes half-lidded. “They’re going to go make the babies.”

 

"Thought we were gonna hang out," Harry chuckled, stumbling beneath the bleachers with Louis snug against his side.

Louis took another chug of Jack before burying his nose into Harry's neck. "We will, we will," he said before tickling his side and trailing his fingers down to Harry's bum. "Just want your arse first," he grumbled, giving it a squeeze.

Harry's eyes lit up. "You're gonna fuck _me?_ " he sang, fingers daintily resting against his chest.

Louis elbowed him in the ribs. "I fucked you the first time too, alright?" he said. He took one final sip of beer. "I was fucking your dick... with my ass," he explained as if it made perfect sense.

"Right," Harry said once they reached the door to the locker room. Louis overheard showers running and men clamoring, so he guided them into the women's locker room. Not only was it segregated from the men's, but it also had individual shower stalls, giving them even more privacy.

Once they entered, Louis saw a trash bin and moved to toss his empty bottle. " _Recycle_ ," Harry hissed, swiftly grabbing the bottle from Louis' hand and dropping it into the neighboring blue bin.

"Ooh, I love it when you're so _forceful_ ," Louis teased, running his hand down Harry's side. Still walking forward, he stripped off his damp shirt before tossing his to the floor.

Harry started imitating jazzy stripper music through his giggly voice. Eventually, he joined the older boy, ridding himself of his flannel and then his jeans.

Once they were both completely naked, Louis leaned into a stall past a plastic curtain to turn the knob. Cold water sprayed him in the shoulder, and he gave a squeak before jumping back into Harry's naked body.

The taller boy gathered him, wrapping his arms around Louis' petite frame.

Louis spun around, meeting Harry in a gentle kiss. "You look like a giraffe," he observed, tracing his fingers over Harry's nipples.

Giving a small gasp, Harry leaned into the touch. "Did you know," he began, voice low and echoing within the stall. "That a giraffe's scientific name is _Giraffa camelopardalis?_ "

Louis applied more pressure into Harry's top two nipples. "I love it when you talk dirty," he purred before letting his hands slide around to Harry's ass.

"You like that, huh?" Harry said with a dimpled smirk. He hummed when Louis squeezed two handfuls of his perky bum. "Well I bet you also didn't know that a full-grown giraffe consumes over forty-five kilograms of leaves and twigs a day."

Louis pressed his hips into Harry's. "I thought you were an English major," he said, fingers slipping into the sophomore's crack.

"Well," Harry said before nibbling and sucking Louis' salt-coated collarbone. He pulled back with an low growl and looked down at Louis with hooded lids. "I sometimes research animals on my own, because I think they're cool, and I don't get out much."

"You're on fire right now," Louis moaned, feeling Harry's erection pressed firmly against his. He danced his fingers closer and closer to the younger boy's hole, feeling his skin grow taughter with each movement.

"Water should be warm now," Harry said, nodding over Louis' shoulder without breaking eye contact.

Louis responded by stepping onto Harry's feet and allowing the larger boy to walk them into the pounding stream. Breaking away from Harry, Louis held out a hand to let the water coat his fingers.

Once they were all slick with moisture, his hand met Harry's ass again. Louis' fingers started teasing at Harry's hole, causing the curly-haired boy to tilt his head back and quicken his breathing. "Go on," Harry panted, tightening his grip around Louis' hips.

Louis obliged, wriggling a digit past Harry's tight rim and feeling him relax against his chest. Once his finger bottomed out, he pressed harder into his hips, breathing heavy at the not-quite-enough friction.

"Move please," Harry whispered against Louis' ear, tone uncharacteristically shy. Louis smiled at the shakiness in his voice before pulling out his finger slowly.

"Good?" he said, pushing it back in at a quicker pace. Harry's chest expanded and contracted more quickly as well, answering Louis for him.

He nodded though, damp curls dancing back and forth. Louis took it as permission to move even faster.

"You're proper tight, Harry." Louis winced as if he were the one with something up his ass. "You're sure you don't mind... you know." Louis' eyes flickered down at his erection, water trickling down its upright position.

Following Louis' gaze, Harry nodded. He snapped his eyes shut when Louis curved his finger to his his prostate, releasing a sharp hiss to match the sound of the shower. "I wann- _fuck,_ Louis - I wanna be tight for you," he managed. "More fingers, please."

Louis smirked, his warm stare easing over Harry’s flustered demeanor. After slipping out his finger, which earned a choked moan from Harry, he slid past the younger boy and out of the stall. Once he arrived at his bag, he bent over and reached into the side pocket. Having Harry around for the past few months had taught him to always be prepared. Did he expect to have sex every time he left the dorm? No. But it didn’t hurt to keep a small bottle of lube and a few condoms in his bag.

He pivoted on the damp, tiled floor, making his way back into the stall. Harry released a breath of relief when he saw Louis twist open the tube and place the condom on the small shelf. He turned to face Louis and shot him an _are you sure this is still something you want to do_ look, all wide eyes and bitten lips. Louis responded by joining him beneath the shower head, allowing his hair to dampen, darken, and flatten. He slid his hands down Harry’s sides, feeling his warmth, and then he kissed him.

Dribbling water fell between their lips, making the kiss even wetter and sloppier. Louis parted his mouth and lowered it to suck on Harry’s bottom lip. The moisture made it even juicier and a lot hotter; Louis never thought he’d get such a burning pit of arousal from just a kiss.

Slipping his hands between Louis’ arms and his sides, Harry reached around to grab Louis’ ass. He sighed into his mouth as he gave each cheek a not-so-gentle squeeze. Louis’ breath hitched, the force of the touch seemingly sending him deeper into Harry’s lips. He led with his tongue, tilting his head for a better angle.

Harry’s tongue met his, and they licked slowly at each other’s before exploring the rest of their mouths. With the taller boy’s long fingers pressing into his bum, Louis pushed forward to rut their hips together. “Forgot how much you loved my arse,” he purred, having broken away from the kiss with a wet echo. Harry hummed melodiously, looking sheepishly at the floor. “This is about your arse, remember?” he finished, cocking his head coyly.

“I don’t see why it can’t be about both,” Harry teased, palms kneading against his cheeks while one finger got rather close to his hole.

Louis hissed before letting his head tilting back to show off his protruding neck vein. He shot Harry a pointed look, as if to counteract his reaction.

“See, look at you.” Harry retracted his finger and continued to massage Louis’ buns. “So sensitive there.”

Ignoring Harry, Louis continued unscrewing the lube bottle. He let the cap fall to the floor with a few echoing, plastic beats, and then he squeezed a small dollop on two fingers. “I guess this is how I’m shutting you up then,” he said before reaching behind Harry. The younger boy didn’t seem to mind once Louis began massaging his hole, circling around his wet rim with two hot fingers.

Harry nodded before ducking his head into the crook of Louis' neck. He moaned into it while piercing the skin with his teeth.

By the time Louis had slid one finger back inside him, Harry was sucking bruises all over Louis' neck, desperately panting amidst the hot steam of the shower. "More," he growled before moving on to his collarbones.

Louis obliged. Using the first finger to stretch Harry open, Louis slowly pushed his middle finger past Harry's rim, and then both together. He groaned at the snug sensation of Harry closing around him. "So tight, so tight," he whispered against the boy's curls.

Thrusting his fingers in and out, Louis couldn't help but wince at the aching stiffness of his cock. He diminished the already non-existent between him and Harry, pressing their erections together even harder. " _Fuck_ ," he hissed, going up and down on his toes to get some friction.

Harry snickered into Louis' collarbone before curling a hand around his cock. Louis gasped in relief, eyes snapping open.

Harry looked back at him. His lips were swollen from making such harsh bruises, and his eyes were dark and hungry. Louis gulped, surrendering himself to the heated stare down. He hoped the younger boy - the more submissive of the two - hadn’t seen his lip twitch, his chest rise, or any other sign of weakness under the lust-filled, undivided attention. He couldn’t have that, not during their first time doing this in _this way_.

Regaining his composure, Louis slid a third finger inside Harry without warning. Though he smirked at the boy’s initial gasp, Louis soon felt guilty. What if he wasn’t ready? It’s not like Louis had put this much inside him in the duration of their enemies-with-benefits ordeal. “Shit, are you good?” He felt himself soften, and he didn’t hate himself for it. “I should have asked, I-”

Harry’s voice fluttered in a breathy chuckle. He leaned forward, nosing at Louis’ jaw. “I’m good,” he mumbled through a smile. “Good good, very good.”

Louis sighed, lifting his free hand to pet at Harry’s mane. His hair had gotten so long, so so long but still possessing that youthful bounce. “We could have some fun with these,” Louis said, tugging at a few chocolate ringlets, thrusting in and out with his other hand.

Harry looked at Louis, eyes lit up and greener than ever. “You mean like hair braiding?” he asked, absolutely delighted.

Louis spat through his teeth and responded with a tug, probably a little rougher than necessary.

Harry’s mouth fell open, and his eyes snapped shut. He groaned, the rugged texture of his voice bouncing over the tiled walls. He then lowered his head, blushing. “Oh.”

Louis grinned, feeling all too proud of himself. His smile only faltered when Harry’s hands glided up Louis’ shoulders and into his hair. He slowly removed the headband - his headband (their headband?) - and dropped it to the wet floor. “Don’t even think about it,” Louis warned once Harry grabbed two handfuls of his sobbing hair.

“But yours has gotten long too?” Harry sang in a mock-innocent tone. “Why shouldn’t I be able to play with it?”

While his three fingers paused inside Harry, Louis used his free hand to run a hand through his own hair, letting his thumb slide over Harry’s. “ _Blech_ ,” he winced. Harry pouted at him. “Well, you can get my shampoo and wash it for me...for starters,” he suggested. Though he meant for it to sound like a command, it came out like a question.

Harry nodded, looking rather excited for someone who was about to serve Louis. He reached back to wrap a hand around Louis’ wrist to remove his fingers. Before turning around, the younger boy locked eyes with Louis and gave a deep, throaty moan at the loss of contact.

Bastard.

When he came back, he held three bottles in one hand, and - okay, how the fuck did he do that? Louis squinted at the image in front of him. “Harry, is your mother a sasquatch?” he asked seriously.

Harry just nodded before placing two of the bottles on the floor, giving the older boy an unobstructed view of his ass. He looked up at Louis, purposefully to catch him staring… which worked. He didn’t move though, just wiggled his bum around playfully until Louis gave it a light slap.

“No teasing. I’m getting blue balls over here-”

“ _Blue balls, shower falls, Louis calls, but Harry stalls_ ,” Harry recited with one hand over his chest.

Louis crossed his arms. “This is no time to work on your next entry,” he scolded. Harry tilted his head as if to say _whatever do you mean?_ “It is time, however, for me to work on an _entry_ of my own,” he added, giving a gentle thrust forward.

Harry pulled a face. “That was rather vulgar, Louis. I don’t know if I can touch you after that.” He leaned back, making a show of huddling into himself.

Louis shrugged. “Suit yourself then,” he said before wrapping a hand around his own erection and giving a few lazy pumps. He threw Harry a challenging look, and then the younger boy was lunging forward in a fit of giggles. He swatted away Louis’ hand and laced it with his. Louis pecked him on the lips. “Okay, but seriously, Harry. If you’re really gonna wash me up, please make it quick,” he pleaded, looking down at his leaking cock.

Harry nodded, letting their intertwined hands fall between them. “I’ve got you, baby,” he said, popping open the body wash with his thumb.

Louis winced. “ _Baby_ ,” he echoed, wrinkling his nose. “I’m two years above you, Harry.” The younger boy batted his eyelashes at the floor, which earned a regretful huff from Louis. “Babe,” he continued, looking Harry in the eye now. “You can call me babe.”

“Like the pig!” Harry lit up like a Christmas tree.

Louis slapped a hand to his own face.

“Not like the pig,” Harry mumbled, bobbing his head as he squirted some body wash into his palm. “Got it… _babe_.”

He started rubbing the soap along Louis’ chest, fingertips barely grazing over his nipples. Louis winced anyway, even after his hands had made their way down his thighs. They were tender, still pulsing from working so hard, undoubtedly sore already.

As if on cue, Harry’s slender fingers began kneading into Louis’ legs. He moaned, eyebrows knitting and forehead wrinkling. “ _God_ ,” he gasped, letting his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder. “Gonna need you to do this all week,” he added, blinking away tears.

“Of course,” Harry whispered into his neck. He worked his way back up, massaging his way to Louis’ ass cheeks. He pressed harder than before, the sensitivity of it all making Louis’ breath hitch audibly. “Guess it’s good we’re not gonna abuse your ass any more than it has been already,” he laughed, soothing over the skin with gentle circles. “But the second it’s feeling better…”

Louis lifted his head, meeting Harry’s dark stare with his lip between his teeth. Without Harry having to finish his sentence, Louis nodded devilishly.

Harry picked up the second bottle and flipped the cap open. White streams of shampoo shot into Harry’s palm, instantly reminding Louis how badly he needed to come.

“Hurry, baby,” he heard himself say, voice small and cracked.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, clumsily setting the bottle on the floor. “Here we go,” he said through heavy breathing. He pushed both hands through Louis’ hair, marveling while it all got slicked back in a greaser sort of doo. Harry gave a mischievous grin before stroking it up into a mohawk, which earned a bitter scoff from the older boy.

“Quit messin’ around, Harry,” he warned, playfully grabbing at the younger boy’s wrists. “Do conditioner at the same time, yeah?” he ordered before shaking out his hair.

Harry hissed loudly, giving Louis a pained look.

“What,” the older boy said flatly.

Harry finally stopped hissing after ten more seconds. “You’re not really supposed to do that. You’re supposed to rinse out all the shampoo and then apply the conditioner to the _ends_ of your hair, and then leave it in for five minutes, and _then_ -”

“Turn around.” His voice was stern, along with his pointed glare.

Harry blinked, head jolting back a bit. “What?”

Louis didn’t answer, just made a twirling motion with his hand. Without protest, Harry obeyed, that alone making Louis twitch against his stomach. He avoided saying something cliché like _‘good boy,_ ’ because that was something he used to read (maybe write too) in his David Beckham fanfiction. He did rub a praiseful hand over Harry’s back though; he deserved that much.

Keeping one hand rested on the curve of Harry’s ass, Louis used the other to grab the condom from the small shelf. He tore it open with his teeth, and then used both hands to slide it on. It all became a bit much when the water pounded against his back as he bent down for the lube. Steam lurked up the stall, framing both their bodies as Louis squeezed a generous amount into his hand. “You ready?” he said, not exactly loving how high-pitched his voice sounded but ignoring it, because Harry was bending over in front of him, long curls dangling above the floor. He wanted this - he only recently realized how badly he wanted it, but he did… so so much.  

A small “Mhm” escaped Harry’s lips as he smiled over his shoulder. That’s all Louis needed before he lined himself up at Harry’s entrance and pushed in every so slowly. He gripped the younger boy’s hips, dull nails digging into his baby-smooth flesh. “ _Ungh_ ,” Harry moaned, hands sprawled out on either side of the stall. Louis held him steady, though keeping his own knees from buckling proved to be its own challenge.

“So fucking tight,” Louis practically sobbed. It was just a fact, but it sounded a lot better vocalized and accompanied by the proud grin Harry tried to hide into his own shoulder. “ _God_ , Harry,” he hissed along with a rough string of curses. He was practically shouting at this point, indifferent to the possibility of others nearby.

Harry just whined - low, strained hums escaping the back of his throat. Louis caught a glimpse of his hair, bobbing and flopping with every thrust. Without much thought or self control, he reached forward, gathered a thick clump of Harry’s hair, and pulled. His cock twitched inside Harry once the younger boy yelled. He allowed his head to fall back, voice bouncing off the high ceiling, and Louis began thrusting deeper.

The hot water soothed any tired muscles, but Louis honestly could not have cared less about the pain anyway. Harry’s walls were clenching around him, sending pulses of heat down his cock and into his balls. He wouldn’t last much longer, which was pathetic to some degree.

But, though he was no longer a teenager, he was still a young man inside another young man - a young and really _fucking_ tightman - so who could blame him? He gave Harry’s hair another harsh yank, making sure he was as close as Louis. He gasped out a clumsy “Are you close?” too, just to double check.

Harry nodded frantically and gave a prolonged hum. Louis relished in the wobbly way his thrusts distorted Harry’s voice. He was obscene, all of him: his voice, his hair, his tight little asshole. It was all too much, and Louis needed a release.

“I’m gonna… _agh, Harry_ ,” Louis gasped, reaching around to grab Harry’s cock. He pumped desperately, chasing both their orgasms as their moan’s intertwined in one loud echo.

Harry hissed, and then he gasped when Louis hit his prostate, giving several _Ah ah ah_ ’s as precome dripped onto Louis’ fist.

Amidst their yelps, Louis only halfway heard a door click open.

His stomach dropped, but he was far too gone to make any sudden movements. Instead, he slapped a hand over Harry’s mouth, his thrusts slowing down but not stopping.

Footsteps grew louder, and Louis got closer and closer to his climax. He tried to hold off, the restraint and arousal stinging his eyes with tears. He should have just pulled out, quick and simple, but Harry felt so so _good_ and Louis was far beyond the point of no return.

He kept thrusting, knowing he was going to come. Harry had to have been just as ready, as Louis felt the vibrations of his moans against his palm.

The next sound came from the shower curtain, and _fuck_. This was about to get really humiliating really fast. “Hey, lads,” a soft, nonchalant voice greeted. Louis blinked up at Zayn, his face scrunched in confusion but then arousal.

In the middle of Louis’ next thrust, completely bottoming out and undoubtedly slamming against Harry’s prostate, the younger boy cried out. He yelled through Louis’ hand, practically scream-sobbing as warm liquid dripped onto Louis’ knuckles.

Louis followed suit, wide eyes locked with Zayn’s as his come shot into the condom and filled it instantly. He kept thrusting while his head tilted back, shooting curses at the ceiling.

“Take your time,” Zayn said politely, leaning against the stall. “Well… actually don’t.”

“What… the _fuck_ , Zayn,” Louis yelled between gasps of air. His eyes bore into his friend’s as he propped Harry up, letting the fucked-out sophomore lean against his shoulder. “You knew we were gonna be here… and what we were gonna be doing,” he said breathlessly. Zayn nodded in agreement. “What could possibly have led you to believe that coming here was a good idea?” Harry released a post-coital sob against Louis’ shoulder. “Not now, Harry.”

Zayn popped air through his lips and eyed the ceiling, while Louis reached behind him to shut off the shower. “Well, I’m still pretty wasted, so I’m sure the image of you two having rabbit sex will escape my brain in due time,” he started, waving his hand in reason. He lowered his gaze to Louis. “But seriously, we all have to get back to Harry’s dorm asap,” he stated, tone at least halfway sober.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and turned to Louis, as if this was some grand prank that he and Zayn came up with. Louis just shrugged.

“Aiden texted me, and they’re doing a room check in the upperclassmen dorms,” he explained. Louis squinted, slowly getting it. “They always do underclassmen right after, so…”

Louis massaged his forehead. He had completely forgotten stuffing several bags of marijuana plant in Harry’s closet. It was something he didn’t like to remember, but the image of Harry’s apologetic frown still haunted his conscience.

“I figured since you guys have made nice…” Zayn directed his eyes to the soggy condom hanging off Louis’ dick. “That maybe we should all help protect Harry here from getting expelled.”

Zayn had barely finished his sentence when Louis bent over and harvested all the miscellaneous bottles from the floor. He grunted in frustration when two of them slipped out of his arms and onto the floor. “Fuck, they slipped,” he defended, stomping out of the stall with the body wash and lube cradled in both arms.

Harry and Zayn shared a smirk in Louis’ peripheral. By the time Louis had dumped them in his bag and picked up a wad of clean clothes, Harry had arrived at his side, the remaining two bottles in one hand.

“No one asked for your help, gorilla hands.”

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

The pickup truck skidded into the closest handicap spot adjacent to Harry’s building. Though Liam was driving, Niall happily offered to risk getting a ticket, screaming “ _Don’t let the man bring you down, lads!_ ” as the four remaining boys hopped out of the back. Eventually, they all made it through the building’s side entrance, Harry leading the stampede to his room.

“You run so floppy, Harreh!” Zayn wheezed. His weak lungs forced him to be the caboose (if you don’t count Niall, who had fallen over with his crutches in the parking lot, but no one seemed to notice), yet he still felt it necessary to criticize. “Toss your keys to Loueh!”

It wasn’t a bad idea, Louis thought. He was tripping over the back of Harry’s heels as it was, so he urgently tapped him on the arm. “Here, baby,” he whispered. Harry slowed down, took a huge gasp of air, and dropped the keys in Louis’ palm. “Thanks. Don’t worry, I’ll make it,” he breathed, accelerating forward. He spared one glance behind him, watching the rest of the boys reduce to a jog. Harry had somehow whipped out an inhaler, poor Zayn probably had a collapsed lung, and Liam was - well… Liam.

They managed to follow Louis down the hall and up a flight of stairs, however, staying within a twenty meter radius. By the time Louis reached the second floor - Harry’s floor - he spotted a female student around his age with an iPad and name tag.

“Lads,” he hissed, turning to face his half-dead posse. “She’s like… two rooms away from Harry’s. You’re gonna have to distract her.” Louis liked the way it sounded, how it felt like some action film. But then he assessed the anemic giraffe, the lung cancer patient, and the Liam Payne in front of him and resorted to a silent prayer.

Liam managed a thumbs up from where he was supporting himself on his knees.

“We won’t let you down, boss,” Zayn added, voice in a near falsetto.

Louis nodded, faking confidence as he spun around and speed-walked toward Harry’s door. He passed the RA and gave her a closed-mouthed, squinty-eyed grin before aggressively shoving the keys in Harry’s lock. He leapt into the room, took a moment to scoff at its meticulously organized nature, and practically dove into the closet.

When he exited, he was holding two trash bags weighted with risk and weed, and he scrambled to the window to scope his options. To his delight, a motionless Niall Horan was lying on the pavement, framed by his crutches. Hastily, Louis twisted the knob to the left, opening the window at an achingly slow pace.

“ _Niall_ ,” he shout-whispered, trying to bang on the window with full hands. The boy shot up, pivoting around on his ass until he caught Louis’ eye. “Can you get up?” he continued, waving one of the bags in the air.

Nodding frantically, the boy propped himself up on his good leg and used his arms to stand up. Louis thought he heard a knock on the door, so he desperately chucked one of the bags. It hit Niall in the face and sent him back on his ass. Louis then realized the knock on the door was just his knee lightly hitting the wall. “Fuck. Sorry, Ni,” he called, wincing as the boy scrambled to his feet once more.

“It’s okay,” he called, throwing Louis a thumbs up. God bless him.

While Niall opened the truck door and shoved the first bag inside, Louis tossed the second, careful not to hit his friend. Once it landed, he held up a finger before scampering to the closet once more.

 

An endless sigh of relief accompanied the last bag flying out the window. Louis had completely rid Harry’s room of any impurities that could get him sent home, and he was downright exhausted. He was about to plop himself onto Harry’s bed, indifferent to whether or not the RA was about to barge in, but something stopped him.

He cocked his head, directing an ear to the door as he heard a faint chorus from the opposite side. At first, he credited it to an impromptu performance from an underclassman acapella group, but then he put two and two together.

Not believing his ears, Louis hesitantly walked to the door and poked his head out.

“ _It was back in ninety nine_

_Watchin’ movies all the time_

_Oh, when I went away_

_For doing my first crime..._ ”

 

Liam was singing the bass notes, Harry carried the melody, and Zayn added the decorative riffs. Louis was stunned.

They had cornered the poor girl into the room next to Harry’s as they bobbed and belted to Sean Kingston’s “Beautiful Girls,” taking the instructions _distract her_ to a whole new level. Louis didn’t know if he was proud or embarrassed. He then looked back in Harry’s room and was reminded that it was clean of evidence. He was definitely proud.

“ _That’s why it’ll never work_

_You’ll have me suicidal, suicidal_

_When you say it’s over._ ”

 

A small round of applause echoed through the hall, the loudest pair of hands belonging to Louis. He caught Harry’s eye and shook his head, biting his lip. Harry just shrugged with a goofy grin on his face. “Well,” he said, turning to face the rest of the audience. “Goodbye.”

And then Louis shut Harry’s door behind him and followed the rest of the boys to the stairs. Once they were out of sight, they all burst into a chorus of laughter, all clapping each other on the back as they descended to the first floor.

“Wait,” Zayn interrupted, freezing in his tracks. “What do we do with the rest of the weed if we can’t hide it?”

Louis exhaled roughly. He hadn’t really thought of that.

Harry hummed, and Louis turned to watch a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “I may have an idea,” he said, scratching at his non-existent beard. “I just have to send out a quick text and go back upstairs to grab my ukulele.”

Louis squinted and nodded slowly. “I see.”

 

[hannah montana transition music]

 

“Thank you, Rain. That’ll be fifty pounds,” Harry said, passing a flower-crowned girl a baggie of pot. He whipped his head around to Zayn after collecting the her money. “We need you to grind faster,” he said, still sounding polite and all too sober. “The line’s still huge.”

Zayn made a frustrated noise as he twisted harder, his biceps fluttering through the exertion. Louis spotted him through red-rimmed eyes and instantly popped over, shoving a joint in his face. “You look like you need some of this,” he said through a chuckle.

Beaming up at his friend through mile-long lashes, Zayn took the joint between two fingers. He took a happy puff before handing it back. “Thanks,” he sang before grabbing Louis’ cheeks and kissing them both.

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry whined over his shoulder, waving somebody’s cash in the air. “I saw that.”

Louis spared Harry an innocent pout, dropping into Zayn’s lap before wrapping his arms around him. “Be gay with me, Zayn,” he cried, imitating his past self. “Make the hippy jealous,” he recited, nuzzling into Zayn’s neck but locking eyes with Harry.

The younger boy shot them an unamused look, ignoring the line of ukulele-holding customers crowding the space in front of him. “I’m not a hippy,” he said flatly, adjusting the collar of his plaid flannel.

Louis puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Ah, but you are,” he said, probably louder than necessary. He got louder when he was stoned.

Harry twisted his mouth, glaring at Louis through his eyelashes.

“But you’re _my_ hippy, so it’s okay,” Louis finished, jumping out of Zayn’s lap and practically falling into Harry’s. He took one more hit off the joint but didn’t release it. Instead, he cupped the younger boy’s cheek and leaned in. Harry sighed into the kiss and giggled when Louis puffed out into his mouth.

Harry leaned back but pecked Louis’ lips quickly before breaking into an obvious smirk. “I’m _yours_ , did you say?”

“I love that song!” one of the members of Harry’s club squealed before starting to strum the chords on his ukulele. Louis and Zayn hissed out a curt _No_ , and the music suddenly stopped.

Wrapping an arm around his neck, Louis placed the joint between Harry’s lips. He waved his hand in circles, signaling for the other boy to inhale, which he did. “Anyway,” Louis began, voice low and throaty. Harry quirked an eyebrow as he parted his lips and held the joint with his teeth. “I wouldn’t mind you being _mine_ ,” he said, leaning back slightly.

He felt his face heat up, and he prayed that the inevitable reddening of his cheeks could be attributed to the weed. However, with the way Harry was beaming at him with his rosy lips and glassy eyes, Louis figured he looked like a madman.

“I wouldn’t mind being yours… I guess,” Harry teased. He snatched the joint from his lips and leaned in, returning the favor of Louis’ shotgun.

Somewhere in the background of the passion and smoke and fireworks, Louis heard two girlish squeals. He chose to ignore them, that is until they got louder and were accompanied by footsteps.

He broke the kiss with a comical smack and opened his eyes to find Liam and Niall jumping up and down in front of him.

“So are you guys like… boyfriend and boyfriend?” Niall asked, his hands joined together in front of him.

Liam bounced up on his toes. “Yeah, like are you official?”

Louis’ eyes widened before turning to Harry, who was busy pointing and laughing at the sweat beading against Liam’s forehead. Meanwhile, however, the larger boy’s arm wrapped tighter around Louis’ shoulder, and he had no other impulse than to answer with a firm “Yup!”

Harry’s gleaming eyes burned into Louis’ temple but were soon replaced with his wet lips.

_Yup_ , Louis confirmed again in his head.

 

**A Piece About Love**

_by Liam Payne_

 

_Love is all around us. U can find it at hoam, when ur pearants hoald hands at the dinnerr taibl. Or u can find it in hte forrest when u see 2 bunnees makin a babie. I c it at skool to. Peepul are alweys sharing noats or editting peepuls essays. No 1 evr wants too editt mine tho may b becuz their r no miss steaks! Little things liek that r love two me. But sumtimes the love is even biggr! Sumtimes u c love when it wuz once hait. Sumtimes u c peepul look passed they’re diffrances and becum frends… sumtimes even moar then frends! Love can b opening ur mind n excepting peepul u thot were diffrant. It can b giving up ur headband or may king a publik apolojy. It can b throwing trash bags owt there windoo. Hate can b love. Love can b love. Love is everyware and  Love Is All Around Us._

**The end.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this! If you liked this, you would like my other oneshot "Drink From My Bottle" and my other fics as well. Follow me on twitter for rambling and news about more upcoming fic! Please leave comments and kudos and SHARE THE LINK WITH YOUR FRIENDS AND FOLLOWERS! 
> 
> twitter: @ctmytown  
> tumblr: larryscape  
> ask.fm: larryscape
> 
> Stay groovy :D


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